Page 43 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“Dr. Cornwall, I—”
“I will check in with you in a few days to get an update on your progress,” she says.
Seriously, when had Dr. Cornwall become so discourteous?
“Remember, you will need faculty approval before moving forward on any final plans.”
“But—”
“I have office hours.” She looks to me and then to Kendrick. “Good luck.”
And with that, she leaves the classroom.
This must be a bad dream. There’s no way I’ve just been put on a committee with Kendrick Stewart. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him for the one hour per month the executive board meets. Serving on a committee with him means hours upon hours in his presence, and my anxiety will not be able to deal.
I spin around. “I don’t need you on this committee,” I tell Kendrick. “I can handle this on my own.”
“Yes you do, and no you can’t.”
“You heard Dr. Cornwall. Most of the work has already been done.”
He leans closer. “I also heard her appoint me to serve on the committee with you. Dr. C wouldn’t have done so if she didn’t think I had something to offer.”
“I don’t need your help.”
His brown eyes shimmer with triumph as a broad smile stretches across his lips. “That’s too bad, because you’re gonna get it.”
I narrow my eyes and give him my bestyou annoy me, and I don’t like youglare. His smile only widens.
I guess I should work on my glare.
Without another word, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and march out of the room.
I hear Kendrick’s deep laugh following me down the hallway, which pisses me off even more. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my irritation. It would only egg him on.
Remember the ultimate goal, Jordyn.
If I pull this off, I will be a shoo-in for SGA president. I am notgoing to allow anyone to get in the way of that, especially not Kendrick Stewart.
“Even hell can’t be this hot.”
I look up at the sky and say, “But I don’t wanna find out, Sky Daddy, so let’s just chill.”
I pull my faux sheepskin pullover over my head and tie it around my waist. In the three years that I’ve lived in New Orleans, I have yet to adjust to the ridiculously mild winters they experience down here. I have a closet full of cute sweaters and wool coats that are must-haves for this time of the year in Chicago, but that hardly see any action in this city.
I jerk the wool beanie from my head—another useless piece of clothing in this sixty-degree weather—and check out my reflection in the glass double doors to make sure my edges are still smooth. After entering through the door of the University Center that faces Drexel Hall, I head for the elevators.
I’d managed to book one of the smaller conference rooms for the Mardi Gras Extravaganza’s committee meeting. We only have it for forty-five minutes, but I doubt this will take that long.
Today’s meeting is more of a courtesy to the three other committee members. Between the work that has already been done by Lacey and her team before their blowup and the ideas I came up with last night, there isn’t much for them to do.
Which is exactly the way I want it.
I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours devising a plan for an extravaganza unlike any that has ever been hosted.
Okay, I have never personally attended the event, so it isn’t fair to compare. Kendrick’s accusation yesterday was unnecessarynasty work, but he wasn’t wrong. I do go back home during the Mardi Gras break.
But based on what I found in the university archives, I’m confident I can pull off the best extravaganza ever. It is imperative that I putmystamp on this event so that when election time comes around, the student body will remember which of the candidates was able to step in at the last minute and create an extravaganza for the ages.
